Happy Verday

Hullo.

It's my birthday.

You may be wondering what I'll be up to this evening. I believe Ver will be enjoying a swanky dinner in the city tonight, you might think. Or perhaps she'll be at an intimate fête with her inner circle. Maybe she will indulge in a spree of the shopping kind.

Those are fine guesses, my little birds. But I'm afraid you're not even close. For tonight...tonight I am in charge of Math Night at R & V's school.

Semi-groan.

The good news, though, is that I finally succeeded in putting the thing together (3 teachers, 2 translators, 8 parent volunteers, 2 student volunteers!). The bad news, of course, is that a cursory look at the school calendar showed that this was the only logical night on which to have it. And so we will postpone the revelry (which, after all, will really just amount to fulfilling my fervent and long-standing desire to eat fish tacos in Half Moon Bay) 'til the weekend.

Did I tell you I'm reading Birds Without Wings by Louis de Bernières? I am terribly drawn to his writing, to the unabashedly Garcia Marquez-ness of it, the lushness, the mourning. At the end of Chapter 5, we read this from the character of Drousoula:

I am just an old woman in exile, I have no education, I am ugliness personified, but if I could break open my ribs with my bare hands, I would show you that I have a heart grown huge with love, and grief, and memory.

And these seem like fine words to read on one's birthday. Because at the end of it all, there doesn't seem like much more to ask from life than a heart grown huge with love, and grief, and memory.

So, yes, this is a happy verday. Diet Pepsi and lumpia for everyone!